The Storyteller and the Thief - The Cycle of Five Lions 1
by Laura of Maychoria
Summary: Pidge is a rogue who desperately needs money in order to rescue her family. Lance is a bard who just wants to go home. They have more in common than they think, and a bigger destiny than either of them ever imagined.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I am oddly nervous about posting this, probably because I've been thinking about and planning this story for such a long time. I'm very excited about it, and I have lots and lots of stuff planned. I hope you stick with me and enjoy reading it even half as much as I've enjoyed just daydreaming about this thing, let alone writing it.

There is art! Karovie on tumblr volunteered to illustrate something for me, and luckily I really, REALLY needed help designing visuals for this, so it's been awesome to collaborate with her. I'm incredibly lucky. You can find it on my tumblr, maychorian, with the tag c5l, for The Cycle of the Five Lions. (That's the overall title of this series.)

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Pidge stood at the corner and peered out into the street. That annoying bard was back again. He had a fancy hat with several feathers and a bright outfit of white and blue, the shirt short enough that it bared a section of his smooth brown midriff. Which, by the way he held himself, was intentional. His olive green half-cloak was flung over one shoulder in a very debonair (and calculated) way. In his hands was a small guitar. Or perhaps the instrument went by a different name, but Pidge was not all that familiar with musical instruments. She had plenty of experience with other kinds of instruments, scientific instruments, but music had never been her world.

The bard was not unskilled, she had to acknowledge that. His voice was pleasant, and his strumming was tuneful enough, though music probably wasn't his main skill. She had seen this bard in the marketplace telling stories, quite good ones. Even Pidge had been compelled to stop and listen for a while, though she never put any coins in his hat when he held it out afterward. He used some limited illusion magic to add a dramatic flair, and his illusions weren't bad for a bard. Pidge had definitely seen worse, not least those of her own making during her beginning training as a wizard, when she was considering which school of magic she might like to join.

All of that was behind her, now. Pidge wasn't a wizard, and she never would be one. She tried not to think about how disappointed her family would be.

But the bard. Was still. Singing.

Pidge's early reconnaissance was usually pretty easy. She came to the place she was scoping out during daylight hours and slid into whatever passersby were normally there as she calculated angles and found entrances and exits, security charms, armed guards, all that kind of stuff. Sometimes a single visit was enough to tell her that a place of interest was beyond her ability, or an easy mark, or wouldn't yield enough profit to be worth her time.

But this gods-bedamned _bard_ kept getting in the way. This was the second time Pidge had come to check out this house, and both times he had been here, caterwauling in the street like a lunatic. Most annoying person _ever._

He was drawing too much attention. Pidge couldn't sneak around the house with him causing a ruckus like this. And, yes, begrudgingly, she could admit that he was doing a fine job at his intended purpose. A storyteller like him needed to draw attention, and that was clear in every aspect of him, from his flashy but practical clothes to his loud, high-pitched voice to his exaggerated, almost goofy body language and mannerisms. His was a figure meant to draw a crowd, and he was doing it. But Pidge needed the opposite.

Ugh. Once she managed to gather enough money and influence to put together her expedition, Pidge would definitely remember to include no bards in the party. No use for performers like that on a rescue and recovery mission, anyway, but also... Pidge kind of hated them now.

Pidge pulled away around the corner and hunkered down, resisting the urge to cover her ears with her hands. She needed to listen for when the bard finished and left so she could finally, finally finish checking this place out. This house, the residence of Madam Montgomery of Sura City, had the potential to be her best job yet. Pidge knew she was grasping at straws, sometimes, but this one was a really big, really golden straw.

She had to get the money. She had to. Even if it took her years. She needed to mount an expedition to the Dragon Waste, and the only way she could do that was if she had lots and lots of money, or lots and lots of powerful friends. Pidge was not much in the social department, so money it would have to be.

The bard was still going. Pidge didn't recognize this song, either. It wasn't one of the popular love ballads she heard wafting on the air about the city. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever heard this one before. Had the bard made it up himself? What a waste of time. It was the same vapid stuff as always, all about Madam Montgomery's ocean blue eyes, the red rose of her lips and the graceful way she moved, like a butterfly. Wow. How imaginative.

There was no use for it. Pidge couldn't wait any longer. She had to get this done, even if the bard would never stop singing.

She slipped around the corner and began making her way along the edge of the high wall that surrounded the house. She moved slowly and smoothly, not drawing attention to herself. The dark greens and browns of her outfit helped her fade into the shadows better than pure black would.

While she was moving along the edge of the Montgomery estate into the alley between one high privacy wall and the next, the sound of the bard's singing finally stopped. Pidge breathed out a sigh of relief. Maybe she had good timing, for once.

She found a secluded spot behind some trash barrels and crouched down to remove her baggy cloak, the better for squeezing into tight places. Her androgynous outerwear was usually enough to disguise her gender in public, with a little help from her magic glasses to make her seem nondescript and utterly forgettable. The only downside was that every time she used those glasses, they reminded her of the wizard who made them.

Pidge sighed. She didn't have time to think about it right now. She had a job to do. As she undid the clasp of her cloak, Holly emerged from her hood and stood on her shoulder, then hopped off into the air and brought her wings into existence briefly to float next to her. Pidge gave the fairy lion a smile as she stripped off the rest of her outer garments and wadded them into a pile on the ground. Holly floated down to nestle in the pile of cloth, folding her wings away into nether space and kneading with her paws as she shaped the clothes to her liking.

Pidge reached out and gave her a quick head skritch, and Holly tilted her head up to lick Pidge's palm. The sensation was wet and warm, but when Pidge pulled her hand away, it was dry. There were a lot of things Pidge didn't understand about Holly, not least how she sometimes seemed to affect the physical world and sometimes didn't. Did Holly choose it, as she could choose to show herself to outsiders or remain as an invisible presence on Pidge's shoulder? Or did it have something to do with her metaphysical and magical form?

A question for another day. As with all the other questions Pidge had about a glowing green fairy lion that, as far as she knew, was utterly unique in the entire world.

Okay, except for that bard. Who apparently had a glowing _blue_ lion. Pidge had seen it hovering around him, looping playfully in the air, even butting up against his hand for pets and scratches. But that had to be an illusion, right? Whenever anyone asked, he said "Blue" was his favorite illusion, which was why he kept bringing it out. How he maintained it for so long, and why other people sometimes didn't seem to notice it even when it was right _there,_ was another mystery Pidge didn't have time for.

Holly curled up on the pile of the clothes, purring like the young kitten she resembled if one didn't look close enough to see that, no, that was definitely a tiny lioness. Pidge took off her glasses and placed them by Holly's front paws, trusting her to guard them as always. She unclipped her goggles of true seeing from her belt and pulled the strap over her head. They would help her see with absolute clarity, both through darkness and any attempt to magically conceal doors and the like. Plus, she could get a good look at any locks or other security apparatus she might need to disable later.

Before she pulled the lenses down over her eyes, a sudden, horrified gasp made her turn her head sharply up and to the right. That annoying bard stood there in the alleyway, staring down at her with huge eyes. His blue lion was riding on his shoulder, just as Holly often rode on Pidge's, and she was frozen for a moment, unable to react.

"I _knew_ it," the bard hissed. "I _knew_ you looked suspicious. You're a rogue, aren't you? Are you planning to rob Madam Montgomery's?" Without waiting for a response, because it was clearly obvious, he turned toward the entrance of the alley and cupped both hands around his mouth. "Guards! _Guards!"_

By the gods, he was loud. Pidge lurched for her feet and lunged for him, dagger already out. She didn't really want to hurt him, but she had to at least disable him so she could get away. Her heart was pounding out of her chest with fear. This could ruin...this could ruin everything. Why hadn't she even considered that he could have been observing her while she was observing him?

The bard turned at the last moment and deflected her half-hearted blow before it could land on him. The blue lion was flapping in the air now behind him, having leaped off to avoid being dislodged. It was so very like Holly, even down to the butterfly-like wings, that Pidge was distracted again.

Neither a bard nor a rogue was built for grappling, but was what they were doing now, Pidge trying to throw off the bard so she could run, he trying to pin her against the wall to trap her until the guards got there. It would have been a more even fight, but Pidge was still knocked off-balance by seeing the blue fairy lion up so close, and the bard quickly overpowered her. It just...it couldn't be an illusion. It didn't make sense. Why would he maintain a weird, whimsical illusion in the middle of a fight? That would just drain his arcane energy.

The bard shoved her down to the alley floor, hands on her wrists pinned to the pavement on either side of her head, knees on her torso. Pidge bucked beneath him, but couldn't throw him off, and he snarled down into her face. Then all of a sudden his face changed, going slack with disbelief.

"Wait a second, you're just a kid!"

Pidge sneered and shoved up against him again, but couldn't get any leverage. "I'm sixteen, you son of a goblin and a bugbear. Plenty old enough to kick your ass from here to Garrison City."

But the revelations didn't stop there. His voice was higher than before. "Wait a second, you're a girl!"

Pidge growled and tried to wrench at least a hand free, but couldn't. "Astute observation."

Then Holly leaped into the fray, flying up in front of the bard's face with a small but powerful roar. He startled back, eyes so wide they looked like they hurt, and fell off her body. Pidge scrambled up and back to the wall where she crouched, panting. He knelt there in the grime, mouth agape, and now his voice was so high it was almost a squeak. "Wait a second, you have a fairy lion, too! And it's _green!"_

Pidge panted for a moment, just staring at him. The blue lion had tucked its wings away and was perched on the bard's shoulder, and Holly had draped herself over Pidge's head protectively, still growling low in her tiny chest. Both lions were tense, staring at each other just as the two humans were.

"Ah, yeah," Pidge said, eyes darting between the bard and his lion. "I kinda wondered about that myself."

"You can see Blue?" The bard reached up and touched his shoulder companion, eyebrows bending in disbelief. "But she's not showing herself right now..." And then he stopped. "Oh. Heck and darnation."

He sounded like he had just understood something, but before Pidge could ask what, another sound reached them, and she turned her head toward it as her breath sped up. The guards were approaching, heavy boots clattering down the cobblestone. They were calling the bard by name, evidently familiar with him. "Lance! Where are you? What's going on?"

 _"Heck,"_ Lance said again, with more feeling. He popped to his feet and yelled toward the guards. "There's a halfing rogue! Heading toward the Narrows! I'm gonna follow!" Then he turned back to Pidge and held out a hand. "C'mon, we gotta go. I know a shortcut, but we have to run _now."_

Pidge wanted to question this. She wanted to question a lot of things. But there was no time. She took his hand and let him haul her up, then scrambled for her cloak and glasses. Lance waited for her, dancing from foot to foot. As soon as she straightened, he grabbed her wrist and ran like the wind.

Pidge followed, keeping up but just barely. Lance seemed to know every nook and cranny of this city. He led her down twisted alleyways and backstreets, on paths that looked like dead ends until they ducked through a gap in a hedge or a fence, and even through someone's house with a flurried, "Thanks! Sorry I can't stay! Dinner smells delicious!" The woman of the house, holding a spoon and an oven mitt, gave them a pleasant smile and wave as they dove out the front door and into another street.

Finally, they reached a late afternoon market crowd, beginning to break up now as merchants stowed their wares for the night, lowered their awnings, and began to head home. Lance slowed to an amble, still holding Pidge's wrist inconspicuously between their bodies as he drew her along to walk at his side. Pidge twisted her wrist experimentally to test his grip, but he wasn't holding tight. He was just leading her, not trying to trap her. She had no choice but to continue to follow, for now.

Pidge's breath began to calm, and she looked over her shoulder, but didn't see the guards. "What are the Narrows? Why did you tell the guards to go there?"

Lance looked straight ahead, walking calmly down the street. The blue lion was curled around his neck like a scarf now, dozing on his shoulder. Holly had tucked herself back into the hood of Pidge's cloak, once she'd had the chance to whip it back on around her shoulders. Her glasses perched on her nose again, but she hadn't had the breath to speak the word to activate the disguise spell. If she did it now, in the middle of a crowd, it would completely defeat the purpose.

"The Narrows is the poor section of Sura City, all the little back alleys and closely built tenements. It's run down, and it's constantly being deconstructed and rebuilt. No one has an accurate map of the place, so it will be easy later to say that I lost sight of the rogue I was chasing in there." Lance turned his head to give her a smug, crooked smile, with sparkling eyes and an arrogant tilt of his jaw. "Quick thinking, huh? I set up our escape, _and_ I said you were a halfling. You're small, but there's no way they'll think you're the one I was talking about, whether you look like a boy or a girl. You can thank me now."

Pidge grimaced and tugged at her wrist again, more out of annoyance than an attempt to get away. "Well, you were also the one who set the guards on me in the first place, so, no. Not gonna thank you."

Lance made a noise of disgust and gripped her wrist a little harder, not enough to hurt but enough to make his point. "Yeah, well, you were casing out Madam Montgomery's house. Don't even pretend you weren't. I was justified."

Pidge looked over her shoulder again, inescapably paranoid, then looked back at Lance's face. She drew in a breath, small and shaky. "Where are we going? Where are you taking me?"

Lance's face softened, and he glanced at her, then down at their hands between them. "If I let go, will you follow?"

Pidge didn't trust this weird, annoying bard, not really. Trust came hard, now, and she had met no one yet on her journey who truly deserved it. But he had put himself out for her in a big way, even though he had caused the trouble in the first place, and the fact that they both had fairy lions following them around, lions they both had thought to be unique in the world...

Something was going on, and Pidge needed to know what it was. Despite her desperate quest and her need to stay free of the grasp of the authorities, her curiosity was like a sharp-toothed creature in her head. She had many, many questions, and she could wait no longer for the answers. If Lance was able to supply them, or even just give her clues, she would put up with him for as long as it took.

She bit her lip, but she nodded. Yes, she would go where he led.

Lance studied her closely, as if gauging whether or not she was lying. After a moment, he seemed satisfied with her sincerity and gave a solemn nod, then let go of her wrist. "We're going to The Crystal Lion. It's an inn not too far from here. Good food, clean rooms. You'll like it."

"All right. Is that where you're staying?"

"Yeah, but that's not why I'm taking you there."

"Then why?"

Lance gave her another smile, this one less arrogant, more childlike and pleased. As if he had a secret to share, something pleasant and wonderful that made him happy, and he was excited to tell it to her. "I'm taking you to meet my friends, Allura and Coran. They're great, but don't cause trouble. Allura will kick your ass without hesitation, and Coran won't give you dessert."

Pidge wrinkled her nose, but she supposed that was fair. He _had_ caught her casing a potential robbery victim, after all. "I won't cause trouble," she said solemnly.

Lance laughed. "Good to hear." His stride was lengthening now, his feet eager and light on the cobblestones. Sunset was coming on, and he was going home, or something that counted to him as a home.

Pidge trotted to catch up. "And why do you want me to meet Allura and Coran?"

"Because." Lance's lighthearted expression flattened, becoming more serious and firm. He looked at her, his eyes flicking to the lowered hood where Holly was hiding. "They can see my lion, even when she's invisible. I bet they'll be able to see your lion, too. I think..." He drew a breath and looked forward, striding determinedly on. "I think we have a lot to talk about. Maybe they'll finally tell me why."

Pidge gulped, but nodded. She looked forward with Lance, wanting to catch a glimpse of this inn as soon as it appeared.

She wanted to ask Lance a million questions. Where and when he first met Blue, how it happened, what the fairy lion could do, if he had learned anything about her and where she came from. Pidge was smart enough to see, though, that this was not a conversation they should have on the street. Anyone could be listening.

The quicker they got to the inn, the better. Since her father and brother had vanished on an exploratory expedition to the Dragon Waste two years ago, every waking moment had been a quest  
for answers. Pidge had broken into as many secure government facilities in Garrison City as she could, as many times as she could, until she was caught and put under house arrest. Disguising herself and setting out on her own had been a last resort, but she had done it without hesitation. As much as she wanted her family back, she also wanted to know what had happened, what the expedition had found, and why the government was covering it up.

When Holly had suddenly entered her life about a year ago, the questions had only multiplied. Somehow Pidge knew, she was sure, that her unique new familiar was somehow connected to the lost expedition and the magical upheaval she and her mother had been marking in the sky and in other arcane signs ever since. No idea how, of course, but she was sure. It was too bad Holly couldn't talk.

But now... Pidge had met someone like her. Someone who had a lot of the same questions, it seemed. And he knew somewhere to go. Someone to talk to who might be able to help.

Maybe they were finally going to get some answers.


	2. Chapter 2

The Crystal Lion was a relatively small but comfortable-looking inn, a two-story building tucked at the end of a row of warehouses not far from the docks. The smell of the salt sea was strong in the air, and Pidge wrinkled her nose at it, but Lance sniffed appreciatively with an absent smile on his face. It was drawing near evening mealtime as the two neared the inn, and the streets were almost empty, everyone gone home or to eating establishments to get their fill. Sura, a port city, lived by the tides, and most of the inhabitants followed a simlar schedule just by virtue of being near the sea.

A mouth-watering aroma became evident in the air as they neared the inn, and Lance sniffed more deeply. His grin broadened and his steps quickened. "Coran made blackberry pie! Hurry up, we gotta get there before it runs out!"

He was all but running now, not even glancing back to make sure Pidge was keeping pace. Apparently he trusted her totally now, or at least trusted that she wanted answers too much to fall behind. Well, that was accurate enough. Pidge ran, too, and pulled up beside him on the street as they pelted for the inn. His excitement ignited a spark in her chest, and suddenly she surged forward, as if they were racing. She didn't know why she cared... No, she didn't. She didn't care.

But Lance laughed and ran harder to beat her. Pidge let him, dropping behind as misgivings leadened her feet. Why was she running like a child nearing home? That wasn't what this was. At all. She had a mission, a quest, one that only she could fulfill. She couldn't keep getting caught up in the moment. She didn't understand how Lance kept affecting her emotions like this. She didn't want it.

Lance beat her to the inn, then turned around in the doorway to face her, beaming all over his face. Blue was flying in the air beside him now, having jumped off to join the race, and Holly peeked over Pidge's shoulder to watch the bard and his lion, mirroring Pidge's hesitation in her little lion way.

Lance seemed oblivious, just smiling at Pidge and beckoning her on. "Come on, come on! They won't wait dinner for us! All right, that's a lie. More than once I've come home after a long day to find that Coran has set aside a covered dish for me. But they won't know to save any for you, so you have to come and eat before it's gone."

Pidge huffed, but she went with him. Her stomach was growling, anyway. She might as well eat, and this seemed to be as good a place to do it as any.

Inside, the tables and benches were well-filled, the dinnertime crowd chatting happily amongst themselves. Several turned and waved at Lance's boisterous entrance, and there were even a couple of scattered cheers and cries of, "The storyteller, the storyteller is here! We'll have good entertainment tonight!"

Lance laughed and bowed in acknowledgement, with an entirely unnecessary flourish of his hand, but it was a quick thing. He was already making his way through the crowd deeper into the inn, Pidge pulled along in his wake like a quiet shadow. Few people paid attention to her, which was as she liked it, but Lance glanced back to make sure she was there. He smiled, that pleased and excited smile of before, eager to share his home with her. "Come on! Allura and Coran will be in the back."

Outside the wide double doors to the kitchen stood the lady of the inn, looking over the crowd with satisfaction on her face. Once Pidge's eyes found her, she could only stare, attention fixed. She didn't know what she expected from Lance's friend, but an elegant elf woman with a beautiful outfit of blue and pink wasn't it. The lady spotted Lance coming and gave him a warm smile, then noticed Pidge and looked straight at her, head tilting to the side as she took her in.

"Allura!" Lance reached her, hands out in greeting.

Allura smiled again, broad and welcoming, and clasped Lance's hands briefly in hers before letting go. "Good eve, Lance. Did the bard work go well for you today?"

"Yeah, excellent." Lance looked to Pidge, then put his hand on her shoulder and drew her up beside him to face Allura. "This is... Ah. Sorry. I never got your name."

"Pidge Gunderson." Pidge stared Allura in the face, almost in challenge, though she didn't know why. Something about this woman put her on edge.

Allura gave her a smile, almost as warm and welcoming as the one she gave Lance. It was the smile of an innkeeper accustomed to showing kindness and hospitality to everyone who crossed her threshold. It didn't mean anything. "Welcome, Pidge. Any friend of Lance is a friend of The Crystal Lion."

"Right." Lance lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually, Allura..."

He didn't have to explain. Holly climbed out of Pidge's hood to stand on her shoulder, staring at Allura with an inscrutable look. And Allura saw her, too. She looked straight into the green lion's eyes. Her face did not betray even a flicker of surprise, but she looked back to Pidge's face with understanding, and her voice was quiet, almost grim. "I see."

Lance laughed, small and sheepish. "I thought so. I thought you'd figure it out."

Allura nodded, small and solemn. Then she smiled at Pidge again, and it truly reached her eyes. This was not the diplomatic smile of an innkeeper, but neither was it the smile of a friend. It was a smile full of understanding, full of secrets, and Pidge wasn't sure she liked it. But she felt compelled to look into Allura's face without glancing away, even so.

Allura looked to Lance again. "Coran has your dinner in the kitchen. I'm sure he can find enough for Pidge, too."

Lance whooped in joy at that, bouncing on his feet. "Thanks, pretty lady!" He winked and blew her a kiss from two feet away.

She laughed and patted her cheek with her hand as if it had landed, eyes almost shut with the force of her smile. "Go on, then."

Lance guffawed, bright and gleeful. He turned to Pidge with a brilliant grin. "Come on, Pidge! Pie!"

Pidge squinted at him, but he was already gone, whirling away to race into the kitchen with Blue flying at his side. All she could do was follow. Holly clung to her shoulder, and if she hadn't been a magical fairy lion who could choose to weigh no more than gossamer if she wanted, her claws would have been digging painfully into Pidge's skin.

The smells in the kitchen were even more intense than those in the rest of the inn. An elf man stood by the hot stove, using a tong and fork to portion food onto plates. At their entrance, he turned around and greeted Lance with a joyful wave of his implements. "Greetings, my dear boy! Who is this you have with you?" He looked at Pidge, smiling broadly through a carrot-orange mustache. He didn't blink at the sight of Holly on her shoulder, though Pidge could tell by the slight shift in his expression that he could see her. Two mice rode on his shoulders, watching the proceedings, and Pidge blinked at them blankly for a moment, then looked back at the cheerful man.

The mice were...colorful. Green and blue, actually. Not normal mice at all. Nothing about this was normal.

"Coran, my man! Dinner smells out of this world, as usual." Lance's hand found her shoulder again and tugged her forward. "This is Pidge Gunderson. Do we have enough to feed her, too?"

"Why, of course!" Coran set down his implements and picked up two plates. He brought them forward and placed them in their hands, then gestured to a humble wooden table in a corner of the kitchen. "Eat up, eat up! Allura and I will join you later, yes?"

There was a weight of significance in his last statement that made Pidge look up at him again, pulled away from staring at the food in her hands. Coran's face folded into solemnity for a moment, looking back at her. He knew why Lance had brought Pidge here, and he was promising to talk to them about it later.

Pidge nodded, and Coran nodded back with all the gravity of a vow, then picked up the other plates he'd been portioning and pushed through the double doors to the dining area. "Back in a tick! Hope you enjoy the food!"

"We will! Eat pie with us later!" Lance called after him, hand cupped beside his mouth. He smiled down at the plate in his hands, then at Pidge. "Haddock with herbs, creamed peas, and salt potatoes. As long as Coran didn't try anything new, it'll be fantastic. Last time he made this meal it was great."

Lance led the way over to the table and set down his food, then bustled around the kitchen fetching silverware and cups of water for them. Pidge sat down and watched him move, then looked at her plate again. Her mouth was watering. "Does Coran experiment with the food often?"

"Every once in a while he gets the urge to try some of his old elven techniques again. They never really go well in a majority human town like Sura, but old habits die hard. It took him a long time to learn to cook for human sensibilities, Allura says, but he's got it down now."

Lance returned to the table and sat across from Pidge, all items now procured. They both pressed their hands together over their food and asked a silent blessing of their deities. Pidge's mealtime prayers to the Stranger were always very short. _Thank you for the sustenance. May it fuel me as I search for knowledge._ Lance's blessing was a little longer, but then he opened his eyes and smiled, and they both dug into their food.

Blue climbed down into Lance's lap and was hidden from sight, and Holly curled up in Pidge's hood again, purring low and content. The lions didn't need to eat, which was a good thing, at least in Pidge's case. Sometimes she had barely been able to feed herself, let alone a creature who would need meat for every meal.

As Lance had promised, the food was very good. Pidge hadn't eaten this well in...in a long time. She ate hungrily for a few minutes, shoveling in the food as fast as she could fit it on her fork, then began to slow down. Lance ate eagerly too, but not quite as fast. His plate was still half-full when Pidge had only a few bites left. She set her fork down on the table, feeling like an uncultured oaf for a shameful moment. But then, she was a rogue now, wasn't she? She was expected to be outside the normal bounds of decency.

That was no reason for her to be rude, though. Especially when Lance and Allura and Coran had all treated her with such kindness. They hadn't asked any questions, hadn't even contested her name, though she was pretty sure all three of them had insight enough to see that she had been lying. Suddenly, Pidge wasn't very hungry anymore.

She toyed with a small pile of creamed peas on her plate, then looked up at Lance across the table. "How long have you known Coran and Allura?"

He smiled softly, nostalgically. "Oh, about a year now, I think. I had been... Well, it's a long story, really. But I'll tell you, if you want to know."

Pidge nodded numbly. Yes, she wanted to know. In this moment, she wanted to know everything about this strange, annoying, kind-hearted bard and the two elves who seemed to have taken them both in without a second thought.

Lance pulled in a breath and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, then sat back in his chair. "I'm not from this city. My clan has a merchant fleet, and we sail all around the southern seas, stopping at ports and coastal villages and trading with everyone we meet. About two years ago, a sudden, terrible storm blew up. We didn't have time to secure everything well, and I was trying to tie down some ropes on the deck of my family's ship when an enormous wave caught me up and washed me over the side. I almost died, but I kept afloat somehow, and I washed up just a couple of miles down the beach from Sura City."

 _Two years ago,_ Pidge's mind poked at her. That was about when the terrible magical accident happened in the Dragon Waste. Had winds from that mighty incident blown all over the world? Had the same thing that had taken her father and brother away separated Lance from his family?

"You said you met Allura and Coran a year ago," Pidge said slowly. "And you were shipwrecked here two years ago."

Lance's smile faltered. He looked down at his lap and reached down to pet Blue, which seemed to soothe him. "It was...not an easy time for me," he said quietly. "I had been learning to be a bard before the storm, but my skills weren't very strong. I tried to perform for coins, and I got a few here and there, but never enough to do more than feed myself for a day or two. Every single time I managed to gather a little cash, it seemed like, I was robbed by one of the roaming bands of thugs that plague this city. Fortunately, Sura is in a warm climate, so sleeping on the street wasn't too dangerous."

Pidge's heart ached. "A whole year?" Her voice was small and pained.

Lance nodded. He looked up at her and gave her another smile, warm and comfortable. "Just a year. Then things changed."

"Why didn't you leave? Try to find your family? You said they travel all over the southern coast, right?"

Lance shook his head. "I couldn't risk it. I knew my family would come back here sooner or later, since we dock in Sura City about once a year. But if I traveled around, there was no guarantee that I would ever be in the same place as them. I could have gone ten miles south and come back to find they'd already come and gone. We're sea-traders. We go where the wind and tide takes us. We don't exactly follow a schedule. So I stayed here."

"Then what happened last year? Did they not come to Sura City for some reason?"

"They came." Lance sighed, face morose. Blue stood up in his lap, front paws on his chest, and nudged up under his chin with her furry head. Lance laughed, small but genuine, and scooped her up to cuddle her close. "Yes, yes, it's okay. I'm okay now, everything is fine. Thank you, beautiful blue girl."

Blue nuzzled into his arms and purred, and Lance smiled down at her, then looked back to Pidge. "I got sick," he said solemnly. "Living on the street... Eh, it wasn't healthy after all. I knew my family would be arriving relatively soon, and I wanted to save up some money to get a nice outfit so I wouldn't look too desperate when they saw me again. Stupid pride, really. I hated looking like a ragamuffin. So when a gang tried to rob me again, I fought back. I hurt a couple of them, but I was just one fledgling bard against half a dozen rogues and fighters. They beat me down, and all I could do was crawl away into an alley and hide behind some crates and barrels. I don't remember the next little while very well. Fever, you know. Messes with you."

Pidge was horrified. Lance let go of Blue with one hand and waved it in the air. "It's okay! Everything's okay now! Yes, listen, next thing I remember was this warmth at my side, like a stray cat curling up next to me. I opened my eyes, and all I saw was blue. It was Blue, my blue fairy lion. She came then, in the moment I needed her most, and I can never express my gratitude for that. Then there were other faces, other voices. Allura's beautiful face bending over me, her cool hand touching my hot forehead. Blue had fetched Allura and Coran. I don't know how they knew to follow her when she went to them, but they did, and they found me."

Pidge swallowed and nodded. "So you met them all at the same time."

"Yeah." Lance bent over Blue, face buried in her fur. "Coran and Allura saved my life. They brought me back here, and I recovered. But by the time I was on my feet again and went down to the docks, it was only to learn that my family had already come and gone. So I had to wait another year."

"Will your family be here again soon?"

"I think so. I hope so." Lance rubbed his nose in Blue's side, and she climbed up on his shoulder in order to lick his cheek more easily. His smile to Pidge didn't falter. "I spent the last year learning how to be a better bard, so when I leave with them I'll be more useful on the ships. I want to be a sea singer, have you heard of them? They're a type of bard who can whistle up the wind and make the voyage smoother and easier for everyone. That's what I want to do."

Despite all the hardships Lance had been through, Pidge envied him. He had been separated from his family, too, but he was assured of seeing them again. He knew that everything would be fixed, and soon, too. And he had a solid plan for how he wanted to live his life and was already on the way.

"Anyway." Lance clapped his hands on the table and stood up, then started gathering their dishes. "Are you ready for pie? Coran and Allura will finish with the dinner rush soon, and they'll come back to join us. Then we all can talk."

Pidge nodded, then jumped to her feet to help him. No need to be rude. She could help with the dishes, too.


	3. Chapter 3

Once the dishes started, it seemed like they never stopped. Coran brought back dishes from the dining room, then Allura, and then Lance went to get more and Pidge went with him, and when they returned the kitchen was redolent with steam from hot water for washing, and it kept going. Pidge was sucked into it all before she realized what was happening. Again, it felt far too familiar, in a way that made her ache. Like being at home, evening lights beginning to shine in the streets outside, her mother and father teasing each other as they moved gracefully around the kitchen, she and her brother sitting at the table groaning with their faces in their hands at their parents' embarrassing display.

Pidge tried not to think about it. She blinked, and she was standing at a tub of hot water, up to her elbows in soap as she scrubbed at a heavy earthenware plate. Holly perched curiously on her shoulder and snapped at the soap bubbles that Pidge waved up to her, and Coran guffawed joyfully, plucking each wet dish from her hand as she finished rinsing it so he could dry it with a voluminous towel that never seemed to get wet. Then he passed the dish to Allura with practiced ease, and she spirited it into a cupboard somewhere.

Pidge lifted her head. Where was Lance? Beyond the double doors to the common area, one propped open with a flat iron to let out some of the steam and heat in the kitchen, she heard the laughter and applause of tavern-goers. Woven through the noise of the crowd was Lance's bright, energetic voice, rising and falling in a practiced cadence. Coran noticed her looking toward the door and gave her a broad smile through his bushy mustache.

"He's telling stories. That's what Lance does, you know. The boy's a storyteller. He's good at it, too, isn't he?"

Pidge nodded before she caught herself. She had heard Lance's stories. She knew they were good.

Coran tilted his head to listen to Lance's voice for a moment. "Sounds like he's telling a story of the Rabbit and the Hunter. Those are good ones, always sure to get the crowd laughing. Lance is fond of those. Likes a good comedic turn, he does."

When the dishes from dinner were done, it was time to dish out the pie. The three of them went back to the common area, Pidge with a stack of saucers and a fistful of forks, Coran with several heavy pies balanced on his arms, and Allura with a serving wedge. They stopped at each patron in turn, Pidge handing out a plate and fork, Coran standing steady while Allura levered out a piece of pie, enormous and thick and dripping with juice. Allura pushed the piece of pie with one finger onto the saucer held eagerly in two waiting hands, and they moved on to the next person.

Pidge was distracted, listening to Lance's story. The tables and benches had been cleared to the sides of the room to give him space to perform, and he danced around in the ring thus provided, waving his arms and continually changing his body language and his voice to match the various characters he portrayed. Occasionally he waved a hand and caused an illusion to appear to illustrate the tale.

Blue was with him, running around his feet almost in a figure eight, cavorting like a kitten. Somehow Lance never stepped on her, no matter how she pounced and jumped and climbed his leg halfway to leap off again in an acrobatic twist. No one seemed to notice her, so she must be invisible to everyone right now. It was a just a little game she and Lance played with each other, known only to themselves but enjoyed fully by each.

"And there the Hunter stood, his hands on his hips, huffing as the Rabbit ran off into the forest." Lance mimicked the god in the story, hands on his hips and face a perfect thunderstorm of disgust. "Tricked again! He couldn't believe it. He was sure he had gotten the Rabbit this time." Lance shook his head with a sneaky grin and wagged his finger in the air, eyebrows moving up and down to show just how foolish that had been. The listeners ate it up, some laughing, some clapping their hands on their knees, some wagging their fingers in mocking imitation of Lance's performance.

"Just before he disappeared into the trees, the Rabbit turned back and laughed so loudly that half the world could hear." Lance spread his arms and threw his head back, laughing at the ceiling loud enough to crack crockery. Pidge wished she could cover her ears, but her hands were still full of dishes. Lance spun in a circle and grinned at the crowd all around, as theatrical and showy as ever the Rabbit was. "'Foolish Hunter! I _wanted_ you to throw me into the prickle patch! It's my home! You've known me all this time, and still you never learned that? Know thy enemy and know thyself, O Hunter of All!' And he thumped away like the wind while the Hunter fell to the ground in a heap of grievous sorrow."

Lance threw himself on the floor in a paroxysm of emotion, flailing his arms and kicking his heels like a toddler throwing a tantrum. The crowd roared with laughter, and Blue leaped over Lance in a graceful arc, as delighted as he was. Lance sat up and raised his hand, and an illusion appeared hovering in the air over him. A starry tree, as in the stories of the beginning of the world, and a human figure made of sparkles and light and dark spaces chasing a similarly composed jackrabbit on the ground. They ran around the tree three times, the Hunter never gaining on the Rabbit, and then the two starry figures rose higher in the air, leaving the tree behind. The bright pinpricks of the stars within them brightened, and expanded, and then there were the constellations of the two gods picked out like cross-stitch in an inky sky.

Lance stood slowly, almost regally, his final illusion of constellations framing him with the Hunter on his left and Rabbit on his right. His voice changed, becoming more solemn and measured, less comedic and boisterous, as he delivered the conclusion of the tale. "And thus was born one of the finest pieces of military advice that ever mortals were given. 'Never ambush your enemy without knowing where his warren lies.' We thank the Rabbit and the Hunter for the lesson, and may we never forget."

A flourish of his hand, and the illusion faded from sight. The crowd clapped and cheered, and Lance bowed deeply to his front, then turned and bowed to the right, to the left, and behind him. He bounced up to his feet with a bright smile. "Enjoy your pie, my friends! I am off to have my own. I'll be back in half an hour to tell another tale to end the evening. Perhaps How the Prism Got Her Wish?"

Some of the listeners clapped or cried assent, but others were busy with their pie. Lance bobbed one last bow, then scampered off to the kitchen just as Allura and Coran and Pidge were returning, too. The doors swung shut behind them, and Pidge heaved a sigh. Finally. They were going to talk.

Lance seemed relieved for the break. He sat down at the table with a sigh while the others dished out pie for him, then for themselves. Coran went to the cold pantry in the cellar and brought back a little pitcher of cream, and they took turns pouring it over their pie, still slightly warm from the oven. As soon as Pidge put the first bite in her mouth, she understood why Lance had been so excited for this. It was truly amazing, and it was only with great effort that she was able to force down a _mmm._

The others were not so reticent. Lance was noisy in his sounds of appreciation, while Allura gave a small, genteel hum. Even Coran made a loud lip-smack of satisfaction over his own creation and leaned back in his chair with a pleased grin. Pidge looked into his face, then into Allura's. Would she have to say something?

Allura looked back at her and gave her a smile. "We will talk more later, after the guests of the inn have gone home or retired to their rooms. Coran and I will need to do a warding so we can talk freely, and it will be better if we're uninterrupted. But for the question I see in your eyes, Pidge Gunderson, the answer is yes. Coran and I can see your beautiful, colorful companions, even when most of the world cannot. Great things are afoot, and while even we do not know everything and cannot answer every question, there is certainly a great deal that we need to share with you."

She looked at Lance and gave him a gentle smile. "You, too, Lance. You've been very patient, waiting this entire year. Thank you for being so accepting when I told you that the time was not yet ripe to reveal everything to you."

Lance shrugged, though his smile was a bit uneasy. "No problem, pretty lady. I knew you had a good reason for it. You and Coran have both been so good to me... Of course I knew that you wouldn't keep something from me unless there was a purpose. The last year has totally made up for the year before that, and I owe that to the two of you."

Allura smiled, and Coran leaned over the table and patted Lance's hand, resting beside his plate. Pidge watched this almost familial interaction with something like jealousy pinching at her soul, then huffed and looked down at her plate. Well, if she was going to be forced to wait even longer for her answers, at least she had pie to console her.

They lingered over their dessert, enjoying it slowly. Allura, Coran, and Lance chatted about how their day had gone and the various people they'd seen and talked to. Lance asked how business had been at the inn, and Coran asked where Lance had gone for his storytelling and how the earnings had been. Apparently Lance had only been singing at Madam Montgomery's house because her husband had hired him to do it.

Pidge gave him a skeptical look, and Lance laughed and gave her shoulder a playful shove. "I'm not lying, I swear it! Okay, the first time I went to serenade the house, it was truly because I thought she was beautiful and she deserved to have a bard sing about it. But that was all I was going to do, honest. Just the once. I knew she was married, and happily so by all reports. I never pursue a lady after I've been rejected, and I fully expected to be told to go away. But the other day in the market, Master Montgomery sought me out after I finished one of my tales. I thought he was going to give me a punch in the nose and was all set to take it, but then he told me that Madam had been rather upset lately, feeling her age, and my singing had lifted her spirits. Made her feel that she was pretty and desirable again. So he paid me to compose my own song and come sing it to her, in hopes that it would help even more. I hope I suceeded, I really do. I know music isn't my best strength. I'm much better at storytelling. But I did my best."

Allura shook her head at him, nose scrunching up. "That's not what you say to your customers. You always extol your own virtues and declare that you are the best at any bardic work you might care to take up, storytelling, singing, instrument-playing and all."

"Well, of course my customers deserve to believe that they are hiring only the best," Lance said, his voice lighthearted, but with a serious edge. "But you know me too well to believe that talk." He looked at Pidge and gave her wink. "No use lying to Pidge, either. She's far too smart to fall for comforting lies. Besides, she's practically family now, and you don't lie to family."

Pidge's heart thumped painfully. She swallowed, but didn't say anything. She just sat and listened as the others continued to talk, watched Lance feed scraps of crust from his plate to the mice who climbed up on the table to join them. There were four of the mice, all different colors.

It was common for inns and taverns to have mascot mice, since the patron goddess of alcohol, the Mouse, required little from mortals besides a little food and drink for her children. Most establishments that sold alcohol, even incidentally, had a tiny alcove at the base of a wall for folks to leave a small saucer of wine or a chunk of bread. But the mice weren't usually permitted to run on the tables like this.

These were pets, not wild animals merely tolerated for the sake of the Goddess of the Granary. After Lance fed them, two climbed up on Allura's shoulders and one onto Coran's, while the fourth, a fat yellow mouse, cuddled up in Blue's soft fur as she curled on the table with her head in her paws. Blue purred, evidently used to this treatment. Pidge could only stare, and Holly leaned over her shoulder and stared with her, her ears flicking curiously. Pidge looked at her, wondering if Holly wanted a mouse to curl up with, too. Holly would try almost anything at least once, just like Pidge.

Eventually the noises from the other room became restive, and they went out again, Allura and Coran and Pidge gathering dishes while Lance began his final tale of the evening. Pidge had heard the story of How the Prism Got Her Wish before, but Lance told it well. When he described the Bear, the goddess of motherhood and winter, traveling through the far northern wilderness, Pidge could all but feel the sting of cold and hear the snow crunching under her feet. When the Bear met the Prism, also called the Northern Lights, Lance lit up the room with a beautiful illusion, a shifting ribbon of light in a starry sky, pink and green and purple and red.

This was a bedtime story most often told to comfort children, and Lance's voice was soft and lilting, slow and soothing, entirely unlike his boisterous, comedic tone during the battle of wits between the Hunter and the Rabbit. At the end of the tale, his voice carried the cadence of a lullaby.

"This, dear children of the world, is why your parents hang a prism on the wall beside your bed. In the day the light shines through it, and the Prism can visit the rainbows where she wishes. And in the night she will guard your dreams and call the Bear to soothe you if they turn sour. In giving the Prism a wish, the Sleeping Mother also gave a gift to all the children of Glaxia. Now may you all sleep well and deep, and fear nothing in the night."

He clasped his hands together in an attitude of prayer and bowed gently to the listeners. The applause was soft and subdued, and many of the listeners were yawning, soothed to peace by Lance's tale. He smiled at all and sundry, not without an edge of smugness at this success, but then he excused himself and returned to the kitchen.

Pidge lingered by the double doors, watching the common room as Allura and Coran moved among their guests, helping some gather their belongings and head out the door for home, guiding others to their rooms on the second story of the inn. She slipped into the kitchen and found Lance putting some porridge oats in water to soak for the next morning. When Coran returned, he also did some preparation for the morrow. He set a large beef rump in the oven, wrapped in parchment and twine, to roast for tomorrow's lunch before he joined them at the table.

Allura joined them last. She was carrying a small figure in her hands, and at first Pidge thought it was one of the mice, but when she looked closer, she saw that it was some kind of hefty figurine. It was a lion the size of loaf of bread made out of something like clear glass, sitting neatly in Allura's hands with head uplifted, front paws laid side by side. Allura set the figure down on the table, and Pidge stared at it, then at Allura.

Allura nodded softly to her, then looked at the lion. "Yes, this figure is what gave this inn its name. It's one of very few artifacts that Coran and I were able to carry away from our ancient home."

Lance's eyes were wide. "You never said," he said quietly. "I thought it was just a decoration."

Coran hummed. "You were meant to think so. Better to hide in plain sight. Just as we do."

Pidge almost choked. "Okay, is this...is this enough now? Can we stop talking in cryptic riddles? Please? Please just...just tell me what you know about the lions. I'm dying to know."

Allura gave her a look of reproof, though there was understanding there, too. "One moment, Miss Gunderson. There is one last thing I must do, and then we can talk."

Pidge swallowed, hard. "Just...just call me Pidge."

Allura reached forward and laid her hand over the head of the crystal lion, covering it almost completely. She spoke a few words, quietly but firmly, in a language Pidge didn't know. It sounded almost like elvish, but not quite. Older, maybe. A root language, or a dialect of one of the elven languages Pidge normally heard. Allura took her hand away, and a tiny prick of yellow light glowed in the middle of the lion's head.

It expanded quickly in a bright flash that forced Pidge to wince her eyes shut. When she opened them, blinking at the dark purple spots in her vision, the four of them, the table, the mice, and the fairy lions were all surrounded with something like a bubble of yellowish fog. It wasn't thick enough to prevent them from seeing each other, but it was visible, almost tangible. Pidge lifted a hand and swept it through the air, wondering, but she felt only air.

Allura sighed and slumped back in her chair. "All right. The warding is set."

"It will only last for half an hour," Coran said, his voice the most solemn Pidge had heard it yet. "So we must use the time wisely."

"Why do we need it?" Lance asked, his voice hushed, almost frightened. Blue was cuddled up in his arms again, leaning on his chest in silent comfort. "Why do you, do we have to hide?"

Allura's eyes were tired. Suddenly, she looked as old as she probably truly was. "Because she's always watching, always listening for us."

"Who?"

"The witch. Zarkon's right-hand general. Haggar of the Void."

Silence fell, heavy and thick, as tangible as the warding spell. Pidge's voice was hushed and choked. "I thought she was a myth. I thought...they were both a myth."

"Zarkon," Lance echoed, just as quiet as Pidge. "Haggar."

"They exist," Coran said solemnly. "Altea existed once, too."

Pidge raised her eyes to look at him, then at Allura. "You're Altean elves." Her hands were shaking. She tucked them into her armpits. Holly leaned over her shoulder, furry cheek resting on hers. Holly didn't seem affected by any of these revelations, though Pidge had always been convinced that her fairy lion was just as intelligent as she was. Holly must have already known all of this.

"Zarkon destroyed our nation," Allura said. Her voice shook, but she went on. "It was a bloodbath. Genocide. Coran and I escaped with our lives and came here, half the world away. But Haggar always has her divination spells searching for remnants of Altean energy. If she finds us, she will hunt us down and kill us, and we will not be able to resist the armies and the powers at her command." She looked at Lance. "That's why I wasn't able to heal you fully when you were sick, Lance, even though I am a cleric. I eased your pain as much as I could, but I dare not use more than a touch of my power at any one time. It is the same for Coran. He is an incredibly accomplished and powerful wizard, but he has not cast more than a cantrip for a very, very long time. The most we can do is pass our power, a sip at a time, into these artifacts that alter our energy so it will not trip Haggar's spells."

Lance nodded. His face was strange and pale in the yellowish lights of the lanterns and the warding. "I understand, Allura. You have nothing to apologize for."

Pidge reached up a hand to pet Holly's head, threading her fingers through the short, soft fur. Holly pressed up against her palm, then climbed up on her shoulder and down into her lap so Pidge could pet her properly. "What does this have to do with the fairy lions?" Pidge asked. "What does it have to do with me and Lance? No offense, Allura, it's horrible what happened to you and your people, but we're just a bard and a rogue. We've only been learning our skills for about two years. Why are you telling us this?"

Allura looked into her face, chin tilted regally. Her voice was gentle, but she spoke with intense gravity and sincerity. "You are not merely a rogue, Pidge Gunderson. And Lance is not merely a bard. You were both chosen by one of the Five Lions, the heralds of the Legendary Defender. In the time of Altea's destruction, five were also chosen, but they failed to stop Zarkon and his hordes. Now, five hundred years later, the world has cycled back into place again, and the Legendary Defender can be summoned. This time, you must not fail, or all of Glaxia will be swept into darkness."

Allura's words hit Pidge like a punch in the chest. They left her winded and breathless, mind spinning fruitlessly in a void of white. Beside her, Lance pulled in a sharp, harsh breath, then went still.

Pidge felt dizzy. She picked Holly up in her arms and climbed to her feet. Her voice jerked out of her in a breathless plunge. "No. I refuse. I already have a quest."

Allura's face went hard. "You cannot refuse this. The green lion has chosen you. There is no other."

"No." Pidge's heart felt like it was shattering into pieces, but she set Holly down on the table. Holly sat there, looking up at her solemnly with her furry little face. Pidge stared back at her, breath heaving in her chest, then tore her gaze away and looked to Allura. She felt cold all over, shivering with shock, but she knew her path. "Take Holly back. You have magic, and you know how this works, apparently. Find someone else. I cannot help you."

"It doesn't work that way, Pidge," Coran said. His voice was soft, but no less unyielding than Allura's. "The green lion...Holly... Holly chose you, not us. We have no say in the matter. We can see her, as we can see Blue, because they are both born of ancient energy that originated in Altea. But we have no say over who the lion heralds choose."

"Then I'll say it myself." Pidge looked into Holly's eyes, into the face of the only creature who had shown her any kindness and loyalty since she had lost her family, since she had been forced to leave her mother behind in order to find her father and brother. "I'm sorry, Holly. I can't. You know I can't. You know everything about me." Pidge's face was wet. She raised a hand and wiped it over her cheeks, rough, stinging. "I wish I could, but... No. I can't. I'm leaving. Don't follow me."

With that, she spun on her heel and ran from the inn.

* * *

 **A/N:** Phew! Okay, now you know the scope of this story and a little about what I'm going for.

As you may have gathered, this story does not use the standard Dungeons & Dragons pantheon. The pantheon was created by me and four of my friends about ten years ago as we created a roleplaying game setting for our own use, Wrath & Gunfire. Here's a couple of links if you'd like to read more. It is not required to enjoy the story. I'll explain as we go along, and I'll be altering some details anyway to fit into the world of this story. Phew! Okay, now you know the scope of this story and a little about what I'm going for.

As you may have gathered, this story does not use the standard Dungeons & Dragons pantheon. The pantheon was created by me and four of my friends about ten years ago as we created a roleplaying game setting for our own use, Wrath & Gunfire. There's some stuff online you could read if you want more info, but it's really hard to get you there since I can't make links on ff.n. I'll explain as we go along, and I'll be altering some details anyway to fit into the world of this story. If you want more, the links will be on AO3.


	4. Chapter 4

Pidge didn't run far. Ten minutes later, half blind with tears, she found herself standing on a dock on the south side of Sura City. The dock was empty of people, just a few ships moored and swaying softly in the tide. The sun was setting, bleeding red and yellow over the water. She sat down at the edge of the dock, facing west, and watched the light sink into the sea.

Lance found her there not long after. Pidge didn't ask how he had known where to go. Maybe he had a spell. Maybe Holly had told him. She could still feel her connection with her fairy lion, deep in her chest, though she was trying to ignore it. She knew she would need to sever it somehow, but she didn't know how, and she didn't have the courage yet to make the attempt.

Lance stood there for a moment, looking down at her. Pidge glanced up at him for a split second, then looked away to the sunset. "Are you going to try to talk me into going back?"

"No." Lance's voice was soft and solemn. "You forgot your cloak."

She looked up at him again. He was holding out her dark green cloak, folded carefully over one arm. He was dressed for the outdoors again himself, complete with feathered hat and jaunty half-cloak. Pidge rubbed a hand under her nose, then reached up for the cloak.

He passed it down to her, and she pulled it around her shoulders and closed the clasp. She had been starting to shiver, though she hadn't noticed until the thick fabric wrapped her again. Lance gave a half-smile, a little sad. "It's still early spring, here. It can get a little nippy at night."

Pidge nodded. Lance lowered himself down to sit beside her and joined her in watching the day die out. He still said nothing to try to persuade her.

Pidge shuddered and pulled her cloak closer around her body. "I thought you said it wasn't too bad, sleeping on the streets. If this is what spring is like at night, winter must have been worse."

Lance hummed and swung his legs over the edge of the dock. "I said it wasn't dangerous. Didn't mean it was comfortable. I got by, but it wasn't fun. Usually had to save what little magic I had to warm myself at night. Speaking of, do you have somewhere to stay tonight? Did you engage an inn before I took you to The Crystal Lion? Sorry I didn't ask earlier."

Pidge shook her head. "I never pay for anything in advance. Never know what the day will bring."

"I get it."

Pidge looked over at him, taking him in a little more carefully. "Where's Blue? I haven't seen you without her at your side since we met."

Lance tilted his head, still watching the sunset. "I asked her to stay behind with Holly. They both wanted to come with me, but they understood that we needed some time."

Pidge's stomach hurt. She folded her hands against it and bent over herself. It ached, it _burned,_ the idea of leaving Holly behind permanently. But what other choice did she have? She had thought Holly was her companion, there to help Pidge with whatever she needed, a comfort and a partner for her journey. But it had turned out that Holly's presence carried obligations and burdens and responsibilities, none of which Pidge had known about when Holly first joined her. Now that she knew, she could not keep Holly with her under false pretenses. She could not abandon her family, no matter how grand and important any other task might be.

Lance sighed. "No matter what else happens, you can stay the night at The Crystal Lion. You understand that, right? I owe you that much, at least."

"I...appreciate that," Pidge said slowly. "Not yet though."

"Sure."

They were silent for a time. The last shreds of sunlight bled from the sky, leaving only the deepening blue of twilight. The moon was high and bright, and the stars were shining. Behind them, lamps were already lit along the cobblestone streets of Sura City.

"Will you tell me?" Lance asked. His voice was almost light, but with a cautious, serious note.

Pidge glanced at him. "Tell you what?"

"What your prior quest is. The reason you can't accept this...this search for the Legendary Defender, whatever that means."

Pidge leaned back on her hands and stared up at the stars. Lance had already told her so much. It only seemed fair. "Have you heard of the Wolfhound Expedition?"

Lance held still for a moment, thinking hard. "The name is familiar. I think I heard rumors about it a few years ago. What was it?"

Pidge swallowed. "I'm from Garrison City." She knew Lance understood what that meant. Garrison was the fortress city of the nation of Amefusa, the city closest to the Dragon Waste. It was a city of scholars and soldiers, of people who both studied the Waste and defended Amefusa from the monsters that grew and mutated there. "Three years ago, some of the wisest sages in the city determined that something had changed, out there in the Waste. It's always been a place of chaos and magical disturbances, ever since Leviathan was exiled from there to the sea."

"I know about the Dragon Waste," Lance murmured. He slipped into storytelling mode, speaking with a poetic turn of phrase that left the taste of ashes in Pidge's mouth. "The battle of the gods left terrible scars that will never heal. They say the Waste used to be a place of enormous beauty and power, home to the greatest of the patron gods of magic, the Leviathan. But when she was betrayed and wrenched from her place by an alliance of the Tiger, Whirlwind, and Frog, it became a vast and deadly wasteland instead."

Pidge nodded. "I come from a family of wizards. My father has been studying the Dragon Waste for his entire life, and my brother is an inventive and talented artificer. Garrison City put together a hand-picked force, the Wolfhound Expedition, to go into the Waste and find out what had changed. Both my father and my brother went, as well as more than twenty others. Clerics, wizards, fighters, rangers, rogues, even a couple of paladins. It was the most experienced and powerful expedition Garrison had put together for more than half a century, because no one knew what was waiting for them out there."

"What happened?" Lance whispered.

Pidge rubbed a hand over her face again. She wasn't crying. She wasn't. "They disappeared. Every last one of them."

Silence fell as they both took a moment to understand what that meant. Lance drew a pained breath. "Your quest is to find your family. Just like mine."

"Yeah." Barely a breath of air. They understood each other perfectly.

"They're not dead," Pidge said, low and hard, even though Lance had hinted nothing of the sort. She wasn't really arguing with him, but with the shades of the past. Still, she could not prevent the helpless rage that filled her chest and sharpened her tongue. "My mother is a divination expert, and even though scrying spells don't work in the Waste because of the magical disturbances, she would have known if my brother and father died. But when she went to the commanders and sages in Garrison for answers, they shut her down. Said she was a widow driven mad with grief and no one should listen to her. Again and again, they dismissed her, told her to go home. Until she really _was_ almost insane, though not with grief."

"I'm sorry, Pidge," Lance said softly.

The name grated at her ears, even though Pidge had never told Lance her true name. It reminded her of everything she'd lost, everything she'd given up. She bit her lip, then spit it out like a broken tooth. "My name is Katie. Kathryn Holt."

Lance held very, very still. When he spoke, it was softly and with caution, as if she was a wild animal that needed to be gentled. Well, perhaps she was. "Do you want me to call you Katie from now on? I will, if that's what you want."

Pidge paused, biting her lip, then shook her head reluctantly. "No, I...I took this disguise for a reason. Maybe you guessed, but...I'm kind of...wanted. In Garrison City. For breaking into government buildings."

Lance huffed out a breath through his nose. "Nope, didn't guess. Should have, though."

Pidge almost laughed, but it hurt too much. At the same time, something inside her felt looser, freer, just for saying all of this aloud. It had been so long since she'd gone on the run, almost a year, and she'd never been able to talk about this to anyone. Sometimes she sent coded messages back to her mother, but she didn't know if any of them arrived. Sometimes, at night, she whispered to Holly, but she had never known if Holly understood her. Maybe she had, though, considering just how important and special the fairy lion truly was.

"I'll keep calling you Pidge, then," Lance said, almost too casually. "It has a nice ring to it."

Pidge's hands closed into fists in her lap. She didn't understand how Lance could be taking this so calmly. They had just been told that they were expected to save the entire world from an ancient evil they had always thought was a myth, and he was sitting there, accepting it. Asking her what name she wanted him to use, as if that mattered even the tiniest bit.

Before she knew what was happening, Pidge was standing on the dock, turned to face him with her fists clenched at her sides and her body stiff with fury and agony. She was yelling. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't want this! I don't want to save the _world._ I don't want to have that kind of burden on me. I just want to save my family! I thought that was enough, I thought that was hard enough, impossible enough, so why..." She grit her teeth, and her voice rose even higher. "Why are you asking even _more?_ I already know I'm never gonna be a wizard, I had to give that up, had to be a rogue instead, and now you're asking me to give up more? Asking me to give up on my brother and my dad? I won't! I can't! I never will!"

Lance sat there on the dock, taking it. Then, suddenly, he wasn't taking it anymore. He jumped up to face her, and if he hadn't been so slender and foppishly dressed, his height might have been intimidating. His face was reddened, his eyes glistening, his expression drawn with pain. Then he was yelling, too.

"I don't want this either! You think just because Allura and Coran are my friends that I'll agree with them without question? No! They never told me _any_ of this, they never..." His hands were shaking, and he tried to close them into fists, like Pidge had, but his fingers just trembled in the air. "They never said a word of this to me, and now I have to wonder, I have to wonder... Is this why they saved me? Because they knew I was a cog in a machine that only they knew about? Did they ever...did they ever even care about me at all? Are they really my friends, or am I just a tool they needed to keep an eye on?"

Pidge's heart dropped into her stomach. She opened her mouth to protest, to say that of course they cared, of course they loved Lance as they would love a son and a brother, that was obvious after spending only an evening with the three of them. But her mouth was dry, and nothing came out.

Tears spilled down Lance's cheeks. He lifted his shaking hands and swiped at them, gleaming in the moonlight, but he only succeeded in smearing the tears around. "I was so _close."_ His voice was cracked, breaking, wandering and lost. "Just a few more weeks, maybe a month, and I was gonna...I was gonna... It's been so long, I miss them all so much, and I can't, I can't..." A sob, soft and choked. He pressed his hands to his mouth, trying to force it back in. He was bending over himself, shrunken almost to Pidge's height just with the force of his pain. "I don't want to save the world, either." The words were muffled through his fingers. "I don't, I don't. I just want to see my family again, and now I have to _choose._ I don't want to, I don't... Why are they making me choose?"

"Lance..." Again, Pidge was moving before she knew what she was doing. Forward, this time. She wrapped her arms around Lance's middle and pressed the side of her head over his heart, under his chin. This close, she could hear his heart racing, feel the heaving of his breath. He was a little older than her, a little taller, a little more experienced. But he was a kid, just like her. A kid who only wanted to go home.

Lance held still for a moment, panting, then wrapped his arms around her in return. He bent his head, pressing his nose into her hair, and his arms were slender but whip-cord strong. It was like being hugged by a coil of sturdy rope. Pidge chuckled moistly at the image and hugged him tighter.

"I'm sorry, Lance," she murmured, throat still choked with tears. "I shouldn't have said it like that. Shouldn't have...accused you."

He sniffled, coming down from his emotional outburst, and pressed her close. "I get it. It's okay. You've been through a lot. You're allowed to be upset."

"You are too," Pidge protested. "Gods, Lance, the things you've been through... I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Lance gulped, then carefully pulled back from the embrace. He left one hand on her shoulder, but lifted the other and wiped his face again. He was staring away, over the southern sea glittering in the moonlight. "At least I know where my family is, at least I know... I'm reasonably certain they're safe. They might think I'm dead, but at least I know they're out there. You don't have that, and that's..." He shuddered and pressed his free hand to his chest, then looked into Pidge's eyes. "That's a lot worse."

Pidge pressed her lips together, trying to keep herself from crying again. "I know my family is out there," she whispered. "I just don't know where."

Lance nodded, swift, almost frantic. "Yes, yes, of course they are. They're out there. You just have to find them."

Pidge nodded. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath.

"...And I'll help you."

She opened her eyes and stared at him. Lance was still looking into her face, earnest and sincere. "Wait, what?"

Lance nodded, strong and firm. His eyes were large, still wet with tears, but completely serious. "I don't want to save the world. I don't want to have to choose between rejoining my family and going on a quest I don't understand for a cause that isn't mine. But you... For you, I'll choose. This is why you were stealing, right? Why you became a rogue? You're trying to raise money to mount an expedition back to the Dragon Waste to look for your family."

Pidge sucked in a breath. "But what about...what about _your_ family?"

Lance's chest hitched. He looked over the sea again, wiping at his eyes. "It's...it's actually normal for young people in my family to go on adventures after they turn eighteen, to see the world and gain experience, so when they come back they'll have stronger magic and better skills. It's a little later than usual for me, since I'm nineteen now. I wanted to see everyone again, get my grandma's blessing, spend some time with everyone before I set out for real, maybe a couple of months, but... I guess sometimes you don't get a choice. Sometimes you don't get to decide when your life starts. Sometimes adventure calls, and you have to answer, even if you'd rather not."

He looked into Pidge's face and gave her a smile. She saw a shadow of that annoying, cocky bard she'd met this afternoon, but now she knew him better. This was Lance, and his smile was deeper and stronger than she could have guessed. "Let's go back to The Crystal Lion and talk things over. We'll make sure Allura and Coran understand, and we'll figure out what to do about Blue and Holly. I'll...I'll leave a message for them to give my family, so at least when they come to Sura City this year, they won't leave still thinking that I drowned in a storm. That's the best I can do for them, now.

"And when you leave, Pidge Gunderson, Kathryn Holt... When you set off from Sura City to search for your family again, I'll be coming with you."


	5. Chapter 5

They started heading back to the inn, walking slowly through the dimly lit streets. Pidge hadn't been paying much attention when she ran away, so she was glad for Lance to guide her back. She had run off not only without Holly, but without any of her other possessions, besides the knife on her belt and the glasses on her face. Her feet were dragging, exhaustion weighing down her limbs. She let Lance walk in front, unconsciously fading into the shadows behind him out of sheer habit. He didn't seem bothered, just cast a glance back now and then to make sure she was still there. Now that he'd pierced her disguise once, he seemed to be able to find her with very little effort, even with the glasses activated.

They passed a busy tavern with a carved wooden sign, an owl with big eyes and an ocean wave crashing at its feet. Light and noise spilled out of the open windows, the sounds of drinking and carousing and drunken singing. Lance looked up at the sign, then glanced back at Pidge with the corner of his mouth curled up.

"That's The Briny Owl. Gets lots of business from sailors and such. In a few hours they'll stumble out and start looking for inns. The Crystal Lion might get some more business. Coran usually deals with that, after Allura and I go to bed."

They passed the inn, and the noise faded behind them. Pidge didn't look back, keeping her eyes ahead. She wasn't sure why Lance felt compelled to talk to her when she wasn't walking beside him. With her sneaking through the shadows like this, to a casual observer it would look like he was alone, talking to himself.

Lance's shoulders heaved in a sigh, though his steps were steady on the cobblestones. "Back in the beginning, that first year, I tried my hand at bardwork in the taverns. But I wasn't entertaining enough for that audience, and sometimes I couldn't even talk loud enough for my stories to be heard over the noise. I've been thinking lately that I could try again. I'm stronger now, and I've learned some funny tales that would appeal to that crowd. But...well... It's hard to go back to a place where you failed in the past."

Pidge nodded, though Lance wasn't looking at her.

"Oh, and yeah, I know I look a little nutsy, talking to nothing. People are used to it, though. I talk to Blue all the time when she's invisible. Don't worry about it."

Pidge snorted quietly to herself, imagining Lance in the last year, building his reputation as a colorful, attention-grabbing bard who talked to himself when he was walking alone. It probably added to his mystique as an eccentric entertainer, made people more likely to attend his performances and reward him afterward.

"And yeah, so right now I might be talking because I'm a little nervous, but hey, that's normal, right? Yeah, this is...not the best neighborhood. And I haven't been back here after dark for a, a long time. Almost a year, come to think of it..."

Pidge perked up, raising her head as the genuine fear in Lance's tone cut through his chatter. He came to a halt, cape swaying around his shoulders, under the light of a sullenly glowing lantern. And there in front of him, moving out of an alley black as the mouth of a cave, was a group of figures in clothing much like Pidge's, dark blues and browns and grays made for fading into shadow. A gang of fighters and rogues.

"Yep." Lance's voice was high with anxiety now. It might have been comical in other circumstances. "Definitely should have taken a shortcut to avoid this neighborhood. Sorry about that. Well, not a shortcut, it would have taken longer. A longcut?"

He took a step back, hands raising defensively. Pidge had already disappeared into the shadows on his left, moving closer so she could watch him and the people standing in front of him. Her heart was pounding, and she could see that Lance's shoulders were stiff with tension. He hadn't yet curled his hands into fists, but Pidge could tell that he wanted to. He was holding off for some reason. Trying not to provoke them?

A figure stepped forward from the group, placing himself in front of Lance. He was human, youngish, but older than Lance by at least a few years. A scar crossed his face from forehead to chin, and a gold tooth glinted in the dim light when he smiled. He held a dagger in one hand, continuously tossing it into the air and catching it again. "If it isn't the tale-teller. What did we tell you about coming back here?"

"I believe you told me not to," Lance said flippantly. "But I was never good at following directions. How've you been, Dirk? Beat up any homeless kids for their pocket change lately?"

"Nah, we have a new angle now. But we're always happy to see an old friend, Lancy-pants." Dirk stalked forward, circling Lance and eyeing him up and down. Lance stood still, only following him with his eyes. Dirk paused and flicked his dagger at Lance's right sleeve, not quite touching him. Lance flinched but held his ground. "Gold embroidery, huh? You've moved up in the world."

"Not real gold." Lance closed his hand over his wrist, covering up the gold-colored filigree on his sleeve. "I gotta look nice for my patrons, and yeah, you got me, I like a little fashion in my outfits. But if you're thinking of mugging me for my clothes, you'll find it's not worth your time."

Dirk snorted and moved back in front of Lance to face him again with a condescending sneer. "I've seen you performing at the High Street market. You got some fancy patrons now, doncha?"

"Dude, that crowd is middle class at best. Yes, I get along quite comfortably for myself, but I'm not exactly rolling in the gold coins, here. Or even silver. And it's not like I brought my purse with me tonight. I wasn't planning to go out on the town. I just went down to the docks to watch the sunset. Oh, it's true that I've gotten a couple of fancy patrons here and there, though. You know Madam Montgomery? Her husband..." And he went on to tell Dirk what he had told Pidge at dinner.

Pidge wrinkled her nose and edged closer, keeping back far enough not to be seen yet. What was Lance doing with this endless stream of words? His words came a little faster than usual, voice still high with nerves. But he was calming down as he went, falling into the tale. Even his shoulders relaxed, and one of his hands fell to his side, though the other rose and gestured in the air along with his words.

Was it a distraction technique? Was he giving time for Pidge to move closer and launch a sneak attack? Pidge was good, she was a skilled rogue, but her eyes moved over the assailants, four, five...six including Dirk. She couldn't take them all on. She could take out one, though. The one who looked the most dangerous. She could take out Dirk.

Then Pidge felt the shimmer of magic in the air, and she remembered. Or realized. Lance was a bard, and his preferred method of performance was through telling stories. He wasn't just filling the gang's ears with a bunch of words for the fun of it. He was telling a story.

He was doing _magic._

Several of the gang members swayed and blinked where they stood, a dazed expression stealing over their faces. Then they focused back on Lance, staring without blinking. He had fascinated them. Four of the fighters and rogues were out of the fight and would not react unless they were directly targeted with an attack. Which Pidge was not going to do.

Dirk was not affected. He was watching Lance, still, but his expression was his own, as ugly and sneering as ever. He kept flipping his dagger into the air, faster and faster. Any moment now he was going to lose patience and strike out, and Lance would be forced to react. That would break the fascination effect, as his performance would have to stop.

Pidge had one chance at this. She had to take out Dirk, or at least wound him badly. If their leader fell, hopefully the rest of the pack would flee. She pulled her cloak around her body to muffle the noise as she drew her dagger from her belt, moving slowly and smoothly. The handle fit easily into her palm, as if it was made to go there. Because it was.

A sidestep, a heft of the weight in her hand. She found her place, waited for her moment. Lance's voice prattled on. He didn't even glance in her direction so as not to give the game away, but she was sure he knew she was there.

Swifter than thought, she drew the dagger back over her shoulder and let it fly. It sped through the air and slammed into Dirk's chest with a _thunk,_ exactly where she meant it to go. He folded to his knees, burbling, and Lance hastened backwards with both hands outstretched as if denying his involvement.

Pandemonium. "Boss, boss, what happened?" Two gang members rushed forward and took Dirk's arms to haul him up, while others peered around, dazed by the remnants of the fascination magic as Lance's performance cut off.

Pidge snapped her hand backward, toward herself, and the magical dagger pulled itself out of Dirk's chest and flew back to her with the returning enchantment. Her concealment was broken now, so she couldn't do another sneak attack, but she needed her weapon. She looked for Lance and started to rush to his side. They needed to get out of here before the rest of the gang gathered their senses and figured out what to do.

Too late. Something struck Pidge a stunning blow from the side, and she was bowled over onto the street. A blinding pain erupted in her side as she rolled over and over, then skidded to a halt in a tangle of limbs. She got her elbows under her chest and tried to lift herself up, peering blearily down the street, and saw blood dripping from a dagger. Oh, right. One of Dirk's buddies had been able to resist the fascination. Another rogue just like her. Pidge had been sneak attacked in return.

She wanted to laugh at the irony, but she didn't have the breath. The rogue was starting to move toward her, dagger raised to deliver a coup de grace, but Lance jumped forward and straddled her body with his hand straight out from his body, two fingers pointing from his clenched fist. "Ray of Frost!"

The icy blast, white edged with blue, sped from his fingertips and struck the rogue in the hand that held his dagger. He yelped and dropped the weapon in shock. It was a perfect shot, like the snipe of an extremely skilled archer. Pidge gasped at the beauty of it, her head spinning dizzily.

The rogue stooped to pick up his dagger, but one of his comrades was pulling on his shoulder, yelling, "We gotta go, we gotta go!" The other gang members were carrying Dirk down the street, yelling that they had to get to a healer. The rogue with the bloody dagger resisted for a few seconds, glaring balefully at Pidge.

But Lance was still standing over Pidge with his fingertips pointing straight at the enemy. The rogue shook his head, then scooped up his dagger, jumped to his feet, and ran after his friends. The fight was over, just like that.

Lance waited until they disappeared down the street, panting harshly, then turned to Pidge and fell to his knees at her side. "Pidge, Pidge, let me see, let me see it, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Pidge groaned and let him roll her gently onto her back so he could see the wound. "What're you...what're you sorry for? My fault we're here..."

Lance shook his head distractedly, staring at her side where the dagger had stabbed through. She could feel the blood flowing out in a warm, steady stream. "I'm almost out of arcane energy for the day, I can't heal this all the way, sorry..."

She blinked up at him, trying to make her eyes cooperate. He kept fuzzing in and out of focus. "Lance." She tried to make her voice clear, but she wasn't sure it was working. "Not your fault."

He shook his head one more time, reaching out with the hand that had recently shot out a perfect ray of ice. "Brace yourself."

She sucked in a breath, expecting him to jam his hand into the wound to stanch it or something. He didn't do that, just laid his palm gently over the stab site. She felt magic flow out of him, cool and refreshing, like an ocean breeze. The pain didn't go away, didn't even get much better, but the flow of blood slowed to a trickle.

He sighed shakily and pulled back, then leaned over to look into her face. "I stabilized it. That's the best I can do. You won't die in the next half hour, anyway. But that was a bad hit, Pidge. A really bad hit. We need to get you healed up right away. There's a temple of the Canary on the north side of Sura City, but I don't have any money with me. Did you have your purse on you when you left The Crystal Lion? I mean, normally I would just take you straight to Allura, even if she can't use a lot of power at once, she could at least get you patched up and started healing. But this...this is bad, Pidge. I'm sorry."

He was babbling again. And this time it was pure nerves, no attempt at magic or distraction. Pidge pulled in a breath, felt it stretch and sting on the wound and ache in her lungs, and she tried to smile at him. It was more or less successful, from the way he relaxed, just a bit. "Got a better idea. I have a wand of cure wounds in my pack back at the inn."

"Oh." The wrinkles around Lance's eyes lightened in relief. "Okay. Allura will be able to use that."

"Or you, Mr. Bard. Bards get alllll the healing too. At least knowledge, if not skill." Pidge reached up and booped his nose. She wasn't sure what possessed her to do it. His nose was just...there. Lance blinked in surprise and raised his eyebrows.

The blood loss was maybe affecting her pretty bad. Maybe.

"Or me," she went on thoughtfully. "If I wasn't messed up. I'm good at using magic devices."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Professor Pidge. I'm gonna pick you up now, okay? We need to get back to The Crystal Lion."

Pidge nodded. Lance leaned over and carefully slid his arms under her legs and upper body, then stood up, lifting her as he moved. Pidge groaned and let her head fall sideways to rest on his shoulder, and he started walking through the streets, keeping his stride smooth and careful to avoid jostling her.

It still hurt quite a bit. Pidge's vision went in and out. She saw the street lanterns passing, yellow and amber, dark buildings, heard the carousing of taverngoers. Lance began to sing something under his breath, a soft, slow song she didn't know. It sounded like a tide washing in and out. She wondered if it was a song from his people. She wondered how often he got to sing it. She wondered if he missed it as much as she missed singing childhood rhymes with Matt.

Her head slid down, ear pressing against Lance's chest. She listened to his voice, sounding low and slow with the beat of his heart. Buildings blurred by, big and looming. A streak of green and blue crossed her vision, strangely bright, beautifully mixed. Holly and Blue had come to greet them.

Everything was fine, then. Pidge closed her eyes and went to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Pidge woke slowly, warm and comfortable, wrapped in an unfamiliar but very strong feeling of safety. Before she opened her eyes she took a deep breath, and she felt a soft, warm weight on her chest that shifted with the movement. A little _brrt_ noise told her it was Holly. She opened her eyes and looked sleepily down at herself, and Holly looked back, still curled up on her chest as cool and calm as could be.

Pidge breathed out a sigh. Holly was still here, still with her. "Morning, girl." Her voice was a little slurred. She was never the quickest at waking up in the morning. Holly blinked back at her, soft and slow, then flipped over to press the top of her head against Pidge's chest and started purring. Pidge drew her arm out from under the covers to scratch her chin and was rewarded with louder purring. Only then did she look around at the room she was in.

A large window in one wall was open, beaming in morning light and a salt-laced breeze. That was probably what had woken her. The room was fairly large, but small and plain enough that she figured she was in an inn somewhere. The walls were cream-colored, painted with small filigree designs in blue and gold along the edges of the door and in some of the corners, but there was no hanging art or anything that stood out. Her gaze wandered back to the window and found a row of seashells lined up along the sill, each one perfectly sized and arranged symmetrically, but that seemed to be the extent of the room's decoration.

There was a desk and chair and a wardrobe against the opposite wall. On the wall beside the door were several hooks, on which were hung her own cloak, an olive-green half cloak, and a jauntily feathered hat. Pidge let her gaze move downward. And yes, there, sprawled across the floor on a thin pallet, was Lance. He slept messily, arms and legs akimbo. Blue was curled up against his head, half of her furry bulk obscurring his face. Pidge wondered how he could breathe like that. But considering how affectionate Blue and Lance were with each other, maybe this was normal for them.

This was Lance's room, then. Pidge looked around again, a bit surprised at how spare it was. For someone with such a large, effusive persona, she would have expected his room to be overflowing with knick knacks and souvenirs, things he picked up and chose to keep for no other reason than that he liked them. But other than the seashells on the windowsill and the tasteful decorations on the walls, the room didn't have much in the way of personality.

But then, Lance had been planning to leave. Expecting to leave. Soon. As much he seemed to genuinely love and care for Coran and Allura, he did not consider this to be his permanent home. He wanted to go back to his family, and anything extra would just slow him down.

Pidge's chest felt heavy, and not just because Holly was dozing there. Pidge lifted her hand and scratched her fingernails through Holly's fur. She stared at the ceiling, trying to think.

Had last night really happened? Her side didn't hurt anymore, so Allura must have healed her. Or Lance, using her wand. Pidge had no memory of that, but she was okay with not remembering being in tons of pain. She'd gotten injured and wounded a few times since she left home, and she'd had to treat herself, but it had never been too serious. She'd never been sneak-attacked by another rogue. Wow, that had sucked. Pidge never wanted that to happen again.

She remembered Allura's voice solemnly telling her that she was expected to save the world. Remembered setting Holly down on the table and telling Allura to break their bond, then running away. Remembered the dock, the sunset, the talk with Lance. Finding out that they had more in common than either one of them could have guessed. The promise he had made, sacrificing his own desires, his own _need_ to return to his people. All in order to help Pidge, a person he hadn't even known for twenty-four hours.

Had Lance really done that? It seemed...so strange. Pidge turned her head and stared at the bard, still fast asleep and sprawled on the floor. Why did he care so much? Pidge wanted to distrust it, wanted to distrust _him._ But somehow, she couldn't.

Maybe it was because she wanted it to be true. More than she could really express, even to herself. Pidge considered herself to be fairly strong and self-sufficient, but the last year had been hard. Even with Holly to keep her company, she had missed being able to talk to someone who could talk back. She missed her parents and brother, yes, with an ache in her heart that wouldn't go away, but she had also missed just...companionship. Someone to walk with. Someone who understood her, understood what she wanted, what she was looking for. Someone who could help.

And here he was, this strange, annoying bard she had wanted nothing to do with. He had rejected the words of Allura and Coran, two people who had saved his life and given him a home and become close to him over the course of a year, and chosen to ally himself with Pidge instead. He had done it in a moment of huge emotion, though. Seemingly on impulse. Maybe he regretted it now.

Pidge couldn't stand the questions anymore. She rolled up on her side, carefully shifting Holly down to lie beside her, and stretched over the side of the bed as far as she could reach. Her hand just barely grazed his elbow, bent out from his body on the floor between the edge of his pallet and side of the bed. Pidge poked it as hard as she could. Lance muttered and shook his head, making Blue blink and raise her head, mouth opening in a wide feline yawn.

Pidge poked Lance's elbow again. He jerked awake with a snort and went still on the floor. Then he reached up and lifted Blue off his face, cradling her against his chest instead. He turned his head to look at Pidge and blinked dazedly as he woke fully.

When his vision cleared sufficiently to see her, Lance smiled, bright as the sunlight streaming in the window. "Hey, Pidge. You're awake!"

He sounded genuinely pleased. Pidge blinked back at him and nodded her head. "Yep, totally awake."

His grin faltered, and he gestured vaguely at her body. "Allura undressed you, not me. In case you wondered."

Pidge squinted down at herself and realized she was wearing a white nightie that wasn't hers. It might be Allura's. In that case, it was going to be way too long for her when she stood up. "Whatever." She looked back to Lance. "Did you mean what you said last night?"

Lance didn't ask what she meant. He stared back at her, steady and serious as he had been on the dock, talking through his tears. "Yeah, I did. I want to go to the Dragon Waste with you, Pidge. I want to help you find your family."

Pidge stared at him for a moment, unblinking. "But...why?"

Lance huffed out an exasperated breath and waved a hand in the air. "I don't know! Because you need someone, and I'm available? Because no one should have to wonder if their family is alive or dead? Because you remind me of my little sister, except that you're a lot meaner and grouchier than any of my little sisters? I mean, it's cool, you be you, but I'm just saying. Kinda mean and grouchy. Still love you though." And he winked and gave her finger guns. While lying on the floor in his pajamas with a blue fairy lion draped over his chest.

Pidge couldn't deal with this right now. She snorted and pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, then stretched her leg over and pushed him with the ball of her foot. "Okay, fine. Be that way. Get out so I can get dressed. Is breakfast almost ready?"

Lance rubbed his eyes and sat up, Blue sliding down to his lap. "It's an inn. Breakfast is ready whenever you want it."

Pidge's stomach growled, and she pressed a hand over it. "Then I want it _now._ Get out, get out! I'm not gonna dress with you in the room, no matter how much you think of me as a little sister."

"Like I said, grouchy." Lance grumbled, but he pushed to his feet with no more resistance. He paused at the wardrobe to gather a handful of clothing, then padded barefoot out the door and shut it behind him, Blue trotting at his heels.

Pidge's pack was in the corner at the foot of the bed, next to the neatly folded pile of the clothes she'd been wearing yesterday. She got dressed, then put everything else away and shouldered the pack, pulling her cloak from the hook as she went out the door. No matter what happened after this, she doubted she would be spending the night again.

Lance's bedroom was on the ground floor of the inn, and she could smell the food in the kitchen and follow the scent without too much trouble. Just outside the kitchen door, she heard Allura's voice and halted, heart in her throat. Somehow, with the peace and comfort of waking up in that safe, lovely room, she had forgotten that her last words to the keepers of this inn had been words of rejection. She hadn't changed her mind, either. She didn't want a quest to save the world. She didn't even want a quest to save their homeland, long-lost Altea. She wanted nothing to do with it, nothing to do with them, and that had to hurt Allura and Coran at least a little bit.

But Lance didn't, either, and she could hear his voice in the kitchen, too, chatting pleasantly with Coran and Allura. Pidge squared her shoulders and stepped inside. Holly floated up behind her and perched on her head, watching the scene.

Pidge's eyes flicked to Allura, then away. Still, in that split second, she thought she saw nervousness and guilt on Allura's face, not accusation or displeasure. Her eyes found Lance quickly. He was already jumping to his feet with a welcoming smile and heading toward the stove, where a pot of porridge steamed merrily.

"Good morning, Pidge! You want a big bowl or a little bowl?"

Pidge's stomach growled again. Though healing magic did wonders, the body still needed time and nutrients to replenish itself. "Big bowl, please."

"Butter? Honey?"

Pidge nodded to both questions, and Lance spooned up big dollops of both from the crocks next to the stove, then brought her the bowl of porridge. They sat at the table, and Pidge bent down to her food. She stirred in the butter and honey, watching it melt into the creamy goo of the porridge, then ate steadily for a few minutes. It was delicious, just rich enough and sweet enough without being heavy on her tongue and in her belly.

Lance and the two elves made inconsequential chit-chat as they ate, words that passed right over Pidge's head. Those colorful mice were on the table again, running around and getting scraps and dribbles of food from all three of them. The pink one even came and stopped by Pidge's bowl, looking up at her hopefully. Pidge squinted at it in doubt for a moment, then scraped a crust of half-dried porridge from the edge her bowl on one finger and offered it. The mouse happily nibbled it off her finger, then chirped in thanks and ran away. Pidge raised her eyebrows and looked at her now-clean finger. Holly leaned over her head and whuffed in her ear. She probably wanted to feel what it was like to be licked by a little mouse, too.

Then Allura cleared her throat, a small, lady-like noise, and the pleasant morning noises stopped.

Pidge sat still for a moment, staring at her half-empty bowl. Then she slowly raised her head and looked Allura in the eyes. She hadn't been dreaming. Allura really did look uncertain and apologetic. Allura reached out to the little crystal lion statue, still setting on the table from last night, and laid her hand over its head to activate the shielding spell. The magic seemed less strong than last night, though it might have been Pidge's imagination, or maybe it was just because the daylight streaming in the windows didn't seem as secretive as the late evening shades of last time.

Allura leaned back and clasped her hands demurely over her heart, looking at Pidge straightforwardly, but with sincere regret. "Pidge, I want to apologize for last night."

Pidge opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. She closed it again and just nodded.

"I should not have laid such a heavy burden on you without preparation. After all, Coran and I waited an entire year to tell Lance what the appearance of the blue lion signified for his life."

She looked over at Lance and gave him an apologetic smile, too. He looked back at her, seeming enraptured, but there was pain on his face. Allura reached over and laid her palm over the back of his hand, slack on the table between them. "I hope you don't feel that we didn't trust you, since we waited so long. In truth, every single day since you've come to live here at The Crystal Lion, I thought about telling you. But you were so wounded and frightened at the beginning, then so grief-stricken that you had missed rejoining your family, that I didn't want to add to your pain. Then, as you recovered and grew stronger, you became such a _bright_ presence in this place. So warm and joyful, such a pleasure to be around. I didn't want to do anything that could dim the light in your eyes. It was selfishness, I confess. I wanted you to be innocent and happy for as long as possible, but that was a kind of cruelty in itself."

Lance turned his hand over and squeezed Allura's fingers in his. He managed a strained smile, but, like Pidge, he didn't say any words of understanding or forgiveness. Allura smiled sadly, then looked to Pidge.

"When you appeared yesterday with your beautiful lion of green, I knew I had waited too long. The Gathering is happening. The fates move as they will, and there's nothing we can do to stop it. But I am sorry, again, for expressing it in the manner I did. You are young, and you were not ready. I learned diplomacy at my father's knee many years ago, but sometimes my heart still runs away with my head."

Pidge nodded. It had not escaped her notice that Allura had not taken back the quest. She had not denied anything that had been said last night, only apologized for the way she'd said it.

"What does that mean?" Lance asked softly. Allura looked back to him, her face gentle and open. "The Gathering. I get that this is supposed to be fated, that the fairy lions chose us for a reason. Earlier you mentioned five. Five lions. Are we all supposed to gather together, somehow?"

"That's right," Allura said. "I don't have much information to give you, unfortunately. The fairy lions have only appeared a few times in Altea's history, each time at a moment of great crisis not only for the country, but for the world as a whole. There have been many stories and legends written about those times, but much of the facts were lost in the upheaval and chaos of the circumstances. And what history we did have has mostly been lost with the fall of Altea, besides what Coran and I were able to carry away with us, mostly in our heads."

Lance looked to Coran, and he nodded gravely, his normally cheerful demeanor hidden away. "Yes, my boy, I can see the question in your eyes. Allura and I were alive directly before the fall of Altea, though we escaped before the cataclysm. Yes, that was five hundred years ago. We journeyed through a teleportation portal, then placed ourselves in stasis in order to await the turning of the world, so we could try again to ally with fate to save all that is good and righteous. Our stasis ended about ten years ago, and we spent the time since establishing ourselves here in Amefusa, where we believed the guardian lions would appear. And it would seem we were correct, for here you both are." He beamed at Lance, then at Pidge, pleased and proud at the success.

"How did you know?" Lance asked, awe in his voice. "I didn't know either of you could do divination. Was there a prophecy?"

"That's a story for a different time," Allura said. "I believe you will find out every detail in the course of your travels. There's a great deal that Coran and I don't know and can't tell you. In short, though, yes, it was the guidance of Altea's patron god that led us here."

"The Panther?" Lance asked. "I've seen the Panther's symbol on some of your things."

Coran shook his head. "The Panther is an aspect of Altea's god, yes. But there are others. I'm sure you'll discover them as you go."

Pidge made a frustrated noise and slapped her hand on the table, making the mice jump. "Why are you still being secretive? Lance and I are here! We're listening! Just tell us what you know, even if it's not everything. Stop being so careful with us! We're not little kids, and you can't protect us from fate, or whatever it is you think has us in its clutches. It's too late to tell us gently, so just lay it all out on the table. Please!"

Allura and Coran were quiet, watching her solemnly and letting her tirade run down. Pidge ran out of words and sat back, panting. That delicious porridge sat heavy in her belly, now.

"But you have already decided to reject your fate, haven't you?" Allura asked. There was no gentleness in her voice, now. None at all.

Pidge pressed her lips flat together, but it was true. Still... "Lance did too," she said sullenly.

Lance gulped and shot her a betrayed look, then faced Coran and Allura again. Tension crept into his shoulders, but he held firm. "That's right. Last night when I went and found Pidge on the docks, we talked. And I decided that I want to go with her and follow her quest, not this one. I'm sorry, both of you. You've been incredibly kind and helpful to me over the past year. But I can't save the world, either. I'm just a bard from a family of sea-traders. I want to help Pidge find her family, lost in the Dragon Waste. I don't want to chase a myth, in order to fight another myth."

Coran and Allura did not look surprised or disappointed by this little speech, strangely enough. Coran hummed and leaned back, running his fingers over his mustache. "The Dragon Waste, you say? Isn't that plenty dangerous, too?"

There was a hint of teasing in his voice. Lance looked at Pidge questioningly, then back to Coran. "Uh, yeah..." he said cautiously. "But it's not like we'll go there right away. We'll have to work up to that."

He looked back to Pidge. "Right? To mount an expedition to the Dragon Waste, we need resources. Lots of them. And powerful friends, hopefully. The most powerful we can find. We need an adventuring party. We're not gonna go it alone."

Pidge nodded. Lance had nailed it on the head. Money, or friends. Ideally both. That was what she needed. What she and Lance needed.

Coran laughed outright at that, and so did Allura, covering her mouth with her hand. Pidge and Lance both stared at them, mouths open. Neither knew what to make of this.

Allura lowered her hand, and Coran wiped away tears from the corners of his eyes. Allura grinned at them, broad and pleased. "It might surprise you to learn this, but that's exactly what Coran and I most wanted to hear you say."

Lance and Pidge exchanged a glance again. "...Really?" Pidge asked.

"Yes!" Coran nodded enthusiastically. "The Gathering... Do you think that happens with just staying in one place? No! The two of you need to go out into the world. Wander around, fight some monsters, find some treasure! Fate will guide you, as it guides the other lion heralds, until you have all joined together. Little is known about how the Gathering is supposed to happen, but that part, at least, is clear from the stories. The bond of true fellowship cannot be forced. It will happen organically, because it must, but it is not an instant thing."

Pidge squinted at Lance, then looked at Coran. "I dunno. It seemed pretty quick with me and Lance. This time yesterday I _hated_ him, and he didn't even know who I was, and now we're planning to adventure together."

Coran and Allura laughed again, burying Lance's indignant squawk of, "Wait a second, you _hated_ me?"

"The bonds of fellowship cannot be forced," Allura repeated, "but they are certainly meant to be. You two, and the other three who will become your bosom comrades, were chosen by the lions because you have the capacity to become good friends and fellows to each other, not because fate will make it so. You can choose to reject your fate all you want. You can try to leave your fairy lions behind and follow your own path. And yet, the paths will always bring you back, not because they will force you to, but because the paths you choose will be the ones you are meant to take."

"Okay, my head hurts," Lance said. "I don't really get all this stuff about fate and choice and whatever. But I think what it gets down to is... You're basically okay with Pidge and me going on a quest to find her family? That's not going to impede the quest for the Legendary Defender?"

"Not at all," Coran said heartily. "In fact, adventuring together is _exactly_ what you and Pidge ought to do. Allura and I couldn't be more pleased to learn that you already made that choice."

"Okay." Lance stood up from the table. All of the tension had bubbled out of him, replaced with hope and good cheer. He turned briefly to Pidge and gave her another wink, another set of finger guns. Blue looped joyfully over his head. "In that case, I'm gonna have another bowl of porridge. I think Pidge and me are gonna need all the energy we can get."

He went back to the stove. Pidge sighed and went limp in her chair, looking up at the ceiling for strength. She couldn't believe this was happening. Just what exactly had she signed up for, forming a party with this weird, annoying bard?

But a grin formed on her lips as she listened to Lance sing a little tune and dance around the kitchen, all of his troubles banished away as if they'd never been. She had no idea what was going to happen next. But she was pretty sure it was going to be great.

* * *

Almost done! With this part, anyway. There's basically just an epilogue to write, and then this bard and rogue are going to set off on an ADVENTURE.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Oops, I kept forgetting to post this here. Sorry! I am working on the next chapter of the next volume right now. I also have other stories I need to crosspost here.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

At the gate of a city, a rogue and a bard said farewell to a cleric and a wizard. The cleric fussed over the bard, straightening the cloak on his shoulders and brushing it off, then patting his head in a way that made him blush and duck away, laughing at the attention. She caught him and held him still, then turned him around to inspect the pack on his back and make sure the straps were correctly adjusted.

"Every twilight," she said sternly. "You must remember."

"Every twilight." The bard turned back and faced her solemnly. "I'll remember."

"We'll be waiting to hear from you. In the greatest extremity, we will throw caution to the wind and step through the portal. I hope nothing that desperate will happen for many months, though. You all will need time to develop your skills, your powers, your bonds with each other and your heralds."

The wizard was holding the bard's instrument, a small, guitar-like instrument with a name from faraway. He spat on the polished surface and rubbed it with his sleeve, then gave it to the bard. He was smiling through his mustache, but his eyes glistened suspiciously. "There you are! All spruced up and ready for service to the best bard outside of the Singing City."

The bard took the instrument reverently in his hands and gave the wizard a soft, understanding smile. "Thank you, man. I'll treasure it always."

The wizard nodded and stepped back. Meanwhile the cleric was holding a wand that belonged to the rogue, carefully inspecting it. The tip glowed yellow-white, and the cleric nodded in satisfaction and gave it to the short-statured rogue, who was fidgeting on their feet, eager to leave. "Fully charged. I hope you'll never have need to empty it." The rogue took it with thanks.

The wizard hugged the bard while the cleric hugged the rogue, and then they switched. Then, at last, the rogue and the bard set off on the road that led out into the countryside of Amefusa. The road was settled and safe near the city walls, but further out, there would be dangers. No fear showed on the rogue and the bard, only excitement and eagerness, the light-hearted and quick-stepped posture of young adventurers who have not yet learned to fear the wilds.

Before they were out of earshot, the bard turned around and waved to the two standing by the gate, both arms sweeping extravagantly through the air. "Farewell! Take care of the inn! Don't worry about us! Everything will be fine!"

The wizard cupped his hand around his mouth and hollered back. "Speak too soon and the gods laugh at your folly!"

The bard guffawed, joyful and free, then turned back around and skipped to catch up with the rogue, who had not paused to wait for him.

No one observing this scene would have been able to see the two winged lions that flew in the air alongside the rogue and the bard, green and blue, perfect friends who spun around each other in synchronized flight and enjoyed each other's company like playful children who had found someone new to join their game. Nevertheless, the lions were there, and they were glad to be on the journey too.

Leagues away on another country road, just within the country of Amefusa, a paladin rode along on his mighty steed, singing a traveling song and bobbing his head to his own music. His armor was burnished bright, marked with combat in one or two places, and he carried a sturdy spear. His horse was strong and steady and could have pulled a cart if this paladin had not been called by the Boars, the gods most friendly to the common man. He was a child of a coastal village, this handsome young paladin, and he was excited to be heading inland to places he had never seen. He was here to fight monsters and to bring comfort and good cheer to anyone who needed a guardian, a hero, and he was glad to be on his way.

No one would have been able to see the yellow lion riding on the paladin's shoulder, just as sturdy and solidly-built as the paladin himself. The lion's head nodded to the paladin's music, too, and anyone who could have seen him would have said that he was smiling. He held the paladin's shoulder with all four feet, immovable as a boulder, yet the paladin seemed not to feel his weight or his claws at all.

Far to the north and east, beyond the border of Amefusa, beyond the fortress called Garrison City, two young men toiled along the edge of the Dragon Waste. They were traversing the mountains down into the foothills, and their path was rocky, steep, and almost barren of life. One was a ranger, clad in red and white, two swords strapped to his back. The other young man was dressed all in black, his tunic torn in places, the edges of the sleeves worn ragged. This young man did not carry a weapon or armor to immediately reveal his role in the world, whether he was a fighter or monk or some other class of adventurer, or not an adventurer at all.

Even so, it was clear that he was important to the boy in red. The boy in black moved slowly, his face pale, and his body panted for breath. He favored his right arm, holding it close to his body and taking care to use it as little as possible. When he needed to push himself off a boulder or grab hold of a burnt tree branch to steady himself, he let go as quickly as possible. The boy in red moved at his pace, waiting when he faltered and occasionally putting a hand under his left elbow to guide and encourage him. They moved slowly but steadily, heading south and west toward Amefusa.

Ahead of them loped two lions, one black and one red, picking their way over the rocky ground as if finding a path for the boys following behind. They topped a rise, then stopped and looked back as they waited for the young men to catch up. The red lion was agile and lithe, the black one broad and powerful, yet their stance and posture were perfectly matched. They wanted the same thing, and they sought it together.

The heralds of the Legendary Defender had come to Glaxia after five hundred years of absence, and soon enough they all would meet once again.


End file.
